


The Pleasure's All Mine

by yuletide_archivist



Category: 10 Things I Hate About You (movie) - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-20
Updated: 2008-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1638125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two weeks since Kat last heard from Patrick, and she's beginning to get worried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pleasure's All Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Sketch for beta-ing. Apologies to elzed for a significant lack of smut -- I'm sorry, I just couldn't do it! *Grins* Feel free to 'finish' it for me.
> 
> Written for elzed

 

 

Katarina Stratford was about one four-syllable word away from her head imploding. Roland Barthes may be the father of modern literary theory, but he clearly had no understanding over how a well-constructed, readable, entertaining, or even informative sentence should look. With her 2B pencil (with which she had been desperately trying to translate the complex text into something understandable, at least to her mind) she wrote a large D- on the bottom right hand corner of the textbook, circling it with a satisfying sweep. Ha, that would show him. When she slammed the book shut, it made a good, hard thwack. That was one good thing, at least. Books this thick and brainy-looking were nice and heavy, good weaponry.

With a pained groan, Kat rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling of the dorm room she was only just beginning to think of as home. She had been lucky. They had roomed her with someone half-way decent - not a stoner, not a cheerleader, not some bizarre Harry Potter geek. They shared similar tastes in music and decor, and the grrrl rock posters she had brought with her extended right across to the other side of the room. 

Unfortunately, said roommate had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who actually lived in the same state as her, and could see her on a regular basis. A very, very present boyfriend, with whom her roommate was out dancing at that very moment. Kat heaved a melancholy sigh, and glanced unwillingly at the picture beside her bed. She and Patrick at graduation, that stupid, goofy smile on his face as he beamed right at the camera. Her expression was somewhat more subdued, dark eyes glancing across at him, with just the faintest smirk on pouty lips. 

Two weeks since his last letter. Three weeks since his last email. She didn't like to think about how long it had been since he'd called. Off on his grand road trip across America, it was more difficult than ever to pin him down. And that was cool, it was what they'd agreed.

But still. As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him.

Katarina liked to think that she wasn't at all romantic - romance was a ploy designed by the Hallmark Company to return women to a submissive position in non-platonic relationships - but as she gave up on her reading, and lay back onto her pillows, eyes falling closed, she grudgingly admitted to herself that it would be wonderful if he just appeared.

*

Bending rules had never been a problem for Patrick. He had a knack of getting his own way, using his multi-functional tools of charm and intimidation. With a plain looking girl at the Halls desk, it didn't take much more than a flash of a smile, a glint in his eye, and a lengthy (and surprisingly honest) explanation of his extenuating circumstances. He had, after all, known the room that Kat was in. He'd just lost the piece of paper when his wallet was stolen ten days ago. It had taken numerous acts (of which he would never speak) at the fabulous Pirates of the Crotch-and-Beer bar in Ohio to raise enough money for gas.

But it had all been worth it. At least, he hoped it had.

Coming to room D24, Patrick felt a wave of nerves. It had been four months since he last saw Kat, face to face. Since he last kissed her, or held her, or ... College might have changed her. What if she was suddenly smarter than he was? Or, at least, thought that she was. Swallowing down these uncharacteristic doubts, he raised a tanned hand and knocked softly on the door.

No answer. Perhaps she was out. He moved to knock again, but his arm bumped against the door and pushed it ajar. Crappy college facilities be praised, he thought, pushing the door open a little further and poking his head into the small two-person dorm. Only the last of the winter sunlight shone grey through the window, adding just a hint of colour to a room which was otherwise in shadow. It looked deserted - clothes strewn across one bed, books everywhere, but no signs of life.

But then the pile of clothes shifted and sighed. He blinked, and stepped into the room. "Kat?" he whispered, moving close enough to see her face. Asleep. And looking placid, for perhaps the first time in her life. He smiled softly, leaning down to touch the side of her face. "Wakey wakey, Kat."

His girl sighed again, and shifted to press her face against his hand, smiling in her sleep. "Patrick?" she muttered, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"That would be me," he replied, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. God, he'd missed her warmth, the feel of her skin against his, and that faint vanilla smell that always brought an ironic smile to his lips.

At the touch of his lips against hers, her eyes flew open, quickly awaking from her slumber. "Patrick?" Just like Sleeping Beauty.

She looked him over from her prone position in blank amazement ... before a glower fell over her features, and she punched him surprisingly hard in the arm.

Less like Sleeping Beauty, then.

"Ow! What was that for?" Patrick demanded, quickly backing away.

She was breathing hard, and her cheeks were flushed. She looked wild, like when he had first known her, and remembered the desire he had first felt for her. Taming the wild beast was how he had put it. He had thought she was tamed, but found he rather liked the unpredictable elements that would never really leave his Kat. With thoughts like these running through his head, Patrick had to focus a little harder than normal on Kat's words to get their meaning.

"Two weeks, Patrick! Not a word or anything for two weeks - anything could have happened! And you just show up here out of no where."

The beginnings of a pout settled on his lips. "You're not happy?"

Before Patrick knew what had hit him, he found a bundle of Stratford in his arms - arms flung round his neck, legs around his hips, kisses landing all over his face. Actions truly did speak louder than words. However, Katarina apparently had a charmed notion of her own bulk. "Jesus, you weigh a ton!" he laughed, as they fell backwards together onto the second bed. Katarina punched him again, but with a good-natured smile, and her hand remained on his chest flattening out from a fist. 

Her fingers played over the warm, broad planes of his chest. She suddenly became very aware of the solid feel of his body beneath hers: muscular chest and stomach, wiry legs, strong arms wrapped about her waist with hands splaying out and beginning their own exploration. She shifted slightly, and bit her lip with a knowing smile when a low hum of pleasure emitted from Patrick's throat. "You must be exhausted," she whispered, all too aware that the door was still open, even as she slid her lips along his neck, smiling when his arms tightened around her.

"I'm ok," he replied a little too quickly, hands sliding down to her denim-clad ass. He raised one hand, and smacked it down with a satisfying `Thwack!' that made her bite down on his throat. 

Kat raised up on her elbows, smiling down at Patrick. "Thank you. For coming, I mean."

A wicked smile spread over his face, as he easily rolled Kat to one side, shifting between her legs and diving down to spread kisses along the curve of her neck. "Believe me, that pleasure's all mine." 

 


End file.
